


A Six Part Mini-Opera

by elliot_cant_write



Category: If We Were Villains - M.L. Rio
Genre: all centered around Filippa, an assortment of unrelated moments from their time at Dellecher, and none in order, i came up with it at 3am while watching manifest destiny, i didn't want to tag any relationships because like?, im a choir kid i know nothing about shakespeare or how theatre works help me, the love of my life, the title is a falsettos reference and im so sorry, theyre mostly implied or so minor that i feel like it shouldnt count
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 11:20:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13386735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliot_cant_write/pseuds/elliot_cant_write
Summary: In which Filippa is the glue that holds the rest of them together.





	A Six Part Mini-Opera

Part One

-

"Filippa, your hair is sitting on my book and you've got two seconds to move it before i slam shut the cover."

"Jesus, Alexander." She gave Alexander a look before flipped her hair, kind of hitting him and mostly getting it off of the book and glancing at its text. "I didn't know you read anything that wasn’t Shakespeare. ."

"I didn't know you...knew things." He winced. "That was awful. Please, pretend I never said that. Please also tell everyone that from this point onward I will only be speaking in Shakespeare quotes."

"Are you not the one who forgot one of your three lines in the halloween production last year?" Filippa asked, shooting Wren a smile as the girl laughed quietly. "But yes, I will let everyone know." 

Alexander muttered something about how at least he got to leave backstage at the halloween production, before changing his position so that his feet rested upon Filippa's lap and flung his book across the room. It hit the ground right next to the bookcase. Alexander had never been known for his good aim. 

The three of them were alone in the shared space of the second year theatre students. Meredith, Richard, and James were all at dress rehearsal for the third years' spring production, with Oliver tagging along with James. Everyone else had gone off to get hot chocolate in an attempt to ward off the newly cold temperatures. 

Ordinarily, Filippa would have been right there with them - she loathed the cold - but Wren had wanted to stay behind to finish a drawing and it seemed cruel to leave her on her own. Alexander stayed for reasons unknown to anyone save himself. 

"That's really pretty," Filippa said, leaning over to look at the dress Wren had sketched out in heavy black ink. "French?"

"French." Wren confirmed, both girls ignoring Alexander's overly dramatic march across the room to put his book away properly. "I saw a dress with this pattern in a book and it was too nice not to attempt to replicate. I'm afraid, however, I lack the talent needed to truly do it justice."

"Nonsense," Filippa said, looking at Wren with disbelief. "You are so tremendously talented. You could take on any one of those art kids any day."

"Don't be silly," Wren said, turning bright red. "They're practically professionals. This is just a silly hobby."

"Oh, we're talking about silly hobbies now, are we?" Richard entered the room with appropriate dramatic flair, Meredith, James, and Oliver trailing in half a second behind him. "Alexander, you should have waited for me to get back before starting discussion on your acting."

"Piss of, Richard," Alexander said, although his tone lacked any particular malice. "Just because you are insecure in your own self worth doesn't mean that you need to take it out on the rest of us."

"Insecure in my own self worth? I think not. I know I'm a blessing." 

Filippa quickly stood up. "That's my que to exit." She muttered, Oliver and James already having made the same choice. There were usually two directions spats between Alexander and Richard tended to go. Sometimes, it was all fun and ended with the two of them laughing. Other less frequent times, they just got increasingly loud and angry. Filippa wasn't big on staying around for much longer to find out which way path they chose to take that night. 

On her way out, Filippa impulsively leaned down, right next to Wren. "For the record," She whispered. "I don't think that it's a silly hobby. I'd let you design costumes for me any day."

-

Gwendolyn was on yet another rampage. Not that there was anything particularly unusual about that in and of itself, but this was on a Friday. Even the most stressed of students and teachers tended to be more relaxed on Fridays. But evidently the first year class had done something horribly offensive with their vowels (???) and thus ruined the day for everyone. 

"Miss Black, Mr. Clay, and Mr. Black," Gwendolyn projected, hands covering her eyes as if in an attempt to ward off a headache. "Find a corner and run through the dialog on page twenty-seven. Remember, please, that we are working on clear diction. That means crisp final consonants, Miss Black." The three students scampered off into an empty corner as Gwendolyn turned back to examine the remaining thirteen before her. "Next group, I want Miss Sterling, Mr. Malloy, and Miss Destefano. Page forty-two."

Slowly, the rest of the students were sorted off into trios and assigned page numbers. All with the exception of Filippa. 

"Oh, the trials of having a number non-divisible by three." Gwendolyn mused, her face twisting to form an expression of false pity that made Filippa want to scream. Gwendolyn had always disliked her, always seemed to have it out for her. Everyone agreed that it was simply because she didn't have the slightest idea what to do with her. Filippa was a good actor, she knew she was a good actor, but did not as easily fit into the same boxes as the others, thus making her more difficult for Gwendolyn to cast. “I suppose you’ll have to read with me, then.” She broke off, looking to the right. “Yes, Wren?” 

While Gwendolyn had been distracted by speaking and Filippa had been distracted by Gwendolyn’s speaking, Wren had left her group and gone over to the two of them. 

“Um, the passage you assigned my group is only two parts.” Wren alternated between looking at Gwendolyn and looking at the pen Filippa was gripping so tightly it was in serious danger of snapping. “We were wondering if you wished us to read a different one?”

“It’s two parts?” Gwendolyn looked momentarily puzzled before shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. You can partner up with Filippa. Page...fifty-seven should be a two role one.”

Wren smiled, bright and satisfied and wonderful. “Thank you!”

Gwendolyn left, Wren flipping through her book to page fifty-seven as Filippa just stared at her.

“What?’ Wren looked up, finally noticing. “Is something wrong?”

Filippa sort of smirked. “Forty-two is a three part piece, is it not?”

Wren was always the picture of innocence. “Would I lie?”

“I don’t know, would you?”

Two seconds of silence were all it took for Wren to crack. “Forty-three was a two parter.” She said, lowering her voice so that it was almost certain nobody else could hear. “Jason and Natalya agreed to pretend that was what had been assigned all along. I didn’t figure you wanted to be left with Gwendolyn.”

“You’ve got that right.” Filippa agreed. “I don’t know if her choosing to leave me to work with was more masochistic or sadistic.”

Wren laughed, positioning herself in front of Filippa, ready to begin the reading. “Do you have your book?” 

“Right, sorry.” Filippa opened her own copy, opening it up to the page they needed to be on. “Romeo and Juliet? And the beginning?”

Wren shrugged. “It has a lot of consonants.”

“So does the rest of the text. Almost all words have consonants.”

“I think she just chooses random texts.” Wren whispered. “Nobody can know the practise books that well. Anyway, shall we begin?”

Wren began.

-

Part Two

-

“Richard is such an asshole.”

“Totally.”

“And he really has no relationship skills.”

“None at all.”

“Who the hell even gets offended over fucking assigned partnerships?”

“Somebody who doesn’t deserve such a great girlfriend.”

Meredith rested her chin on her palms. “I’m probably going to forgive him.”

Filippa looked over, kicking her feet in the water. “Are you sure?” 

A small shrug. “Probably.”

It was well after midnight, and Meredith and Filippa were alone sitting on the dock. A screaming argument had began between at 11:30, spawned by something Filippa wasn’t sure she understood in the slightest. Meredith had stormed out and Filippa was sent after her, thus landing them in their current situation. On a dock. After midnight. Lovely.

Meredith: Do you think Richard is okay? He seemed really upset.  
Filippa: Unjustly upset, but yes. Wren seemed like she was going to talk to him.  
Meredith: Good. If anyone can calm him down, it’s her.  
Filippa: Or a push into the lake. That would calm him down.

Meredith tilted her head to the side. “A push into the lake you say?”

Filippa’s eyes widened, immediately knowing what was coming. “Don’t you dare.”

And Meredith pushed her into the lake.

Filippa stuck her head above the water, pushing her newly soaking wet hair out of her face. “Meredith! It’s freezing!” 

The woman in question was still on the dock, laughing so hard she that there was no way that she was paying any attention to what was going on in the water. Filippa grinned, taking advantage of this to swim over and grab her ankle, pulling Meredith down with her. 

Meredith screamed, high pitch and probably carrying far enough that at least somebody could hear but probably not far enough that anyone who could get them in trouble would. She popped to the surface, treading water. “This isn’t that cold.”

Filippa huffed. “I wasn’t referring to the water. I was referring to your cold, betraying heart.”

Meredith rolled her eyes, swimming out of reach a Filippa went to splash water in her direction. “Of course. I should have realised. You weren’t lying to make me feel bad or anything.”

Filippa jumped forward to try to splash water on Meredith, who instantly retaliated. But both of them froze when a light flipped on and somebody stepped outside. 

“Shit,” Meredith said quietly, grabbing Filippa’s arm. “Don’t let who ever it is see you.”

“Hello?” They called. “Is anyone out there?”

“Oh, it’s just Oliver.” Filippa said, immediately relaxing. “Oliver! Hey! It’s just us.”

Oliver approached the dock, looking extremely baffled as to what exactly he had stumbled upon. “Pip? Meredith? Who screamed?”

Meredith: She pushed me into the lake!  
Filippa: It was retaliation.  
Meredith: No comment.

Oliver looked between the two of them. “Okay. By the way, Richard wants to talk to you, Meredith.”

Meredith glanced at Filippa, who shrugged. “You should go. Meredick has survived worse.”

“God, don’t call it that.” Meredith climbed out of the water, grabbing Oliver’s hand for balance as she slid her shoes back on. “Are you coming?”

“Just a second,” Filippa climbed out as well, wringing water out of her hair before walking over to Meredith, slipping her arm through the other girls soaking wet one. “Let’s go.”

The three got to the door hardly a second later and before Meredith broke off, Filippa stopped her. “Hey, if he doesn’t apologise, tell me and I’ll kick his ass.”

Meredith smiled, as if she wasn’t sure whether or not Filippa meant it. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.” And thus, she was gone.

Oliver remained, and Filippa sighed, leaning against his shoulder before remembering that she was completely soaked. “Whoops.”

-

It was breakfast, and Meredick were reattached at the hip. 

Filippa leaned over to Meredith. “I guess this means I don’t have to kick his ass?”

Meredith laughed, setting down her cup of orange juice. “No, you don’t. Thanks though. For everything.”

Filippa shrugged.”What else am I here for?”

-

Part Three

-

There was no denying that Oliver and James were special, and that everyone could see it. 

They got along endlessly, worked together wonderfully, and Alexander regularly joked that they could read one another’s mind.

Filippa had never seen anything like it. It was kind of beautiful. 

So it was that much stranger to see one of them without the other. 

“Where’s James?” Filippa asked, sliding onto the chair next to Oliver at breakfast. “He’s never late.” 

“Sick.” Oliver said glumly. “The plague has officially moved out of choir and onto the rest of us.”

Filippa winced. Every September, the same thing happened. Somebody in one department would get sick, then it would spread to the rest of that department, and then it would move to everyone else. Like clockwork. The process was even fondly (?) referred to by the students as ‘the september plague’. Alexander, who had once taken a health class in high school, theorized that it was from everyone being back together again. None of the rest of them knew enough to provide any input (this was an art school), so that was just assumed to be true. “And we were going to go out for your birthday tonight too.”

Oliver shrugged. “He said that he was going to try to go tonight if he felt better, but I told him not to push it.”

“But he probably will anyway.”

“Probably.”

Oliver pushed his spoon around in his cereal, staring off into space as Filippa watched him worriedly. Somehow, James being absent threw off their entire group dynamic. They were surprisingly habitual people, so it felt strange to have an empty chair. Well, two empty chairs. Alexander only showed up to breakfast about once every few weeks, but they saved a chair for him regardless. 

 

Everyone had such a permanent and essential role in their group that having one person gone when they should not have been gone set everyone on edge. 

“Is it bad that I’m kind of glad that it’s finally spread.” Meredith said, changing the focus of the conversation without changing the topic. “That means it’s almost over. If I have to hear one more choir kid complaining about not being able to hit a note, I might scream.”

Richard: Yes, because hearing Gwendolyn complain about how half her actors have lost their voices is so much better.  
Meredith: You’re just jealous because I have a better immune system and never get sick.  
Richard: Do you want to put money on that?

“Wait for Alexander to get here before placing any bets.” Filippa interjected. “He’d be offended not to be involved.”

Meredith shook her head, red hair flying. “No, no bets on my health. I don’t want to take advantage of anyone by letting them agree to a bet that I know they’ll lose.”

Oliver tilted his head to the side, evidently no longer caring about his increasingly soggy cereal. “Did this moral standard come to be before or after you took fifty dollars from me over casting for the fourth years last year?”

“I don’t know what your talking about.” Meredith stood up, pulling Richard with her. “Come on, we’re going to be late for Frederick’s.”

-

Fredrick’s room felt weird. Maybe it was because Filippa was all to aware of how empty Oliver and James’ usual table looked with half of its occupants missing. 

“Hey,” She whispered to Alexander, who sat sext to her maybe drinking his tea or maybe just pretending to. “Do you mind if I sit with Oliver? He looks lonely.” 

“Oh God, please do.” Alexander whispered back, setting down his completely full looking tea cup. “It’s depressing.”

“You don’t mind? I don’t want to leave you on your own.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll sit on the floor with Wren.”

Filippa quickly slid a table over, teacup carefully held upwards. Frederick was much less...intense than Gwendolyn, but she still had a feeling that he would not appreciate it if she dumped tea all over his room’s nice carpet. 

“Good morning!” Filippa said cheerily, giving Oliver her best smile. “Alexander wanted to sit on the floor, so here I am.”

“You don’t have to do this.” Oliver said quietly, but Filippa shook her head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is completely for selfish reasons and not wanting to accidentally kick Alexander if I for some reason chose to start swinging my feet.”

Oliver smiled back, less ridiculously happy and more just grateful. “Thanks anyway, Pip.”

She leaned against his side, resting her head on his shoulder. “It was weird seeing you alone.”

“It was weird being alone.” Oliver looked over at Frederick, who was jumping back and forth between sides of the room as people actually participated in the class discussion they were meant to be having. “Do you think Fredrick cares that you moved?”

Filippa looked over at the older man. At the same time, Fredrick looked up and saw the seating change that had occured while he had been otherwise engaged. But he did not seem unhappy. In fact, he looked grateful, too, that somebody had filled the seat left empty in James’ absence. 

“No,” Filippa said. “I don’t think that he’s bothered.”

-

They did not end up going out for Oliver’s birthday.

It was actually Oliver’s idea, spun from a comment of Alexander’s about how they probably possessed more alcohol in more various forms than anyone else. Meredith got ice cream, Alexander uncovered the aforementioned alcohol, and Filippa, Richard, Wren, Oliver, and James screwed around with considerably less intended direction. 

“I can’t believe we’re making ice cream sundaes!” Wren said excitedly, propping her elbows up on the coffee table, a feat only achieved due to her position on the floor. “This feels just like middle school.” 

“Yes, middle school.” Filippa said dryly. “A great time in everyone’s lives.”

Wren tilted her head to the side. “I liked middle school.”

James - who was curled up on the couch, looking exhausted but not unhappy to be there - mumbled some Shakespeare quote, because he was so much better at memorising than the rest of them and could actually do that on command. Richard hated that he couldn’t do it, but all the older students insisted that everyone would be able to spit lines at the drop of a hat by mid-way through second year. So they were almost there.

“That actually makes sense.” Filippa decided. “Wren, you seem like somebody who had fun in middle school.”

Wren: What does that mean?  
Filippa: No clue. Intuition?

Surprisingly, Richard seemed to consider the idea. “No, Filippa, I totally see where you’re coming from. Both Wren and James probably had a grand time in middle school.”

“This conversation is getting more nonsensical by the second.” James repositioned himself so that he was closer to Oliver. “Can we please move on?”

“I have ice cream!” Meredith said loudly, making her reappearance and dropping a bag on the table holding up Wren’s head. “And Alexander should be here in a minute; I saw him talking to some third year outside. Oliver, it’s your birthday so you get first ice cream.”

Oliver hopped up, spooning cookie dough ice cream into a bowl and putting what Filippa found to be a ridiculously large amount of whipped cream on top of it. Then James (also cookie dough, but with sprinkles), Wren (strawberry with chocolate syrup and whipped cream), Alexander (chocolate ice cream, chocolate syrup, and chocolate sprinkles), Meredith (strawberry and whipped cream), Richard (chocolate and whipped cream, and then Filippa (cookie dough and chocolate syrup). 

Soon everyone was settled, quietly eating ice cream. 

“I think it’s better that we didn’t go out,” Oliver eventually said. “This is nice. Like Wren said. It’s like middle school.”

“I think the illegally acquired vodka came around until high school,” Alexander said, raising the bottle in question in Oliver’s general direction. “But okay.”

“Don’t ruin this, Alexander,” Filippa said, using a napkin to wipe a glob of whipped cream of Wren’s nose. Somehow, she had ended up on the floor as well. “It is nice. I agree with Oliver.”

Oliver leaned over to give her a high five. “I win. Filippa’s vote dominates.”

James uncurled himself, standing up. “I thought we got equal value votes. Anyway, it’s late; I’m tired. ‘Night.”

Six variants of ‘goodnight James’ rang out, and suddenly it was like the entire group again dissolved again.

“I’m going to bed too,” Meredith said, stretching her long arms over her shoulders. “Whoever is left last better put the ice cream in the freezer or we will be having an extremely aggressive conversation tomorrow.”

“I’ll just do it now,” Wren said, getting up off the floor to take the three ice cream containers and putting them away. “Then I’m out. Goodnight.” 

Alexander and Richard eventually left as well, leaving only Filippa and Oliver. 

Filippa stretched out on the floor, laying her head on her crossed arms. “I think I’m going to sleep here. It’s comfortable.”

Oliver gave her an odd look, one she could just hardly see from her equally odd position. “Don’t sleep on the floor. I don’t want you to not be able to move at all tomorrow. We do have class.”

“I guess you’re right,” Filippa slowly pulled herself up and went over to Oliver, pulling him into a hug. “Happy birthday, Oliver. You deserve it.”

He laughed, hugging her back. “Thanks, Pip. You’re a wonderful friend.”

-

Part Four

-

Alexander paced some more, Filippa watching from where she sat on his bed with her legs crossed. “I promise he won’t get cut.”

“And realistically, I know that,” Alexander said, frustration tangling with his voice. “But I can’t stop thinking about it. Hell, at this point I think I’m more scared of him being cut than I am of being cut myself. Which is ridiculous, because I know he’s more safe than I am.”

Filippa bit back a thousand comments about how anyone wanting to cut Alexander was completely out of their mind, hating how stressed he was about all of this. “Let’s think about the facts that we can be certain about. Colin is ridiculously talented. He’s had as many roles as some of the fourth years, and he’s practically that James of the second years. Could you imagine James being cut?”

“No, although I’m pretty sure I walked in on him having a nervous breakdown about that exact topic two days ago.”

“And the important part of that is that he will literally never be cut,” Filippa quickly added. “And neither will Colin.”

It was almost the end of the year, which meant that it was also almost the time that those who were invited to return the following year were officially informed, while those who were not were left to make arrangements for the rest of their lives. Everyone was always extremely stressed and panicked, but Alexander seemed to be taking it particularly bad that year. 

“It’s just…” Alexander said through clenched teeth, stopping his pacing to sit down next to her. “I don’t want things to change. Do you remember Oliver’s girlfriend from first year?”

“God, Alexander. That would never happen with the two of you,”

“Why not? They seemed happy together.”

Filippa shook her head. “Trust me. They had issues that you and Colin most certainly do not.” She nudged his shoulder. “Hey, you’ll be alright, okay? I’m sure of it.”

Alexander shrugged, still painfully downtrodden. “Whatever you say.” 

-

It was announcement morning. 

Announcement morning was the worst day of the entire year. Everybody knew that they were sitting on the edge of changed friendships, changed plans, and changed lives. It was stressful for the best students and paralyzing for the worst.

Even Filippa was nervous. She was fairly certain that her spot was safe, and that with her was the rest of her friends. They had been lucky two times before, and she was positive that they would be lucky again. At least, that’s what she had been telling Alexander all week,

Speaking of which, Alexander had actually showed up to breakfast once. He was sitting in the spot on her left that they always saved for him, seeming more absorbed by a few tables over (where a group of second years sat) than by anything going on in their own little group. 

“Are you okay?” Filippa asked quietly, bumping his shoulder. “I’m sorry you can’t go over with him.”

Alexander shrugged. “It’s fine. I suppose the fact that this is completely out of my hands at this point is kind of calming. There’s nothing that can be done.”

Filippa could not figure out if that was a healthy way of looking at things or a horribly dejected way of looking at things, but it was a relief to see her friend not pacing and not panicking.

“I have the letters!” Wren announced, appearing with a handful of envelopes. She had been officially chosen to wait for collection, where she had been for the past fifteen minutes or so. “Shall I pass them out or would you all like to come retrieve them yourselves?”

Filippa, having gotten her envelope, sat back down, turning it over in her hand. She really wanted to open it, but found that she couldn’t bring herself to.

“Let’s all open together.” Meredith finally said, after all of them spent a seemingly unending amount of time just staring at it. “I’ll count. One. Two. Three.”

Filippa opened hers, carefully extracting the paper folded up from within. Reading it, her entire being flooded with relief. She was safe. 

She leaned over to Alexander, who looked exactly as she felt. Worn out, but so so happy. “You did it?” She asked quietly.

He nodded, smiling. “Yeah, I did. I’m going to go talk to Colin. Cover for me?”

“‘Course,” Filippa said. “Tell him congrats for me.” And he laughed, and she watched him leave before turning back to share her placement with her equally elated friends. They were staying together.

-

Part Five

-

James looked awful, and Filippa was not having it.

It had been weeks, ever since they started really rehearsing for Caesar. For the first days, she had been more than willing to accept his insistence that he hadn’t slept well, that he was just getting adjusted (to what, he couldn’t say), and that she was just imagining things. But this was getting excessive. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked him backstage, keeping her voice low enough that the second years loitering a few feet away couldn’t hear. “I can cover if you’re not.”

“I am not letting you take Gwendolyn’s wrath for me,” James hissed back. “And I’m fine.” He turned around, clearly not wanting to be spoken to.

Filippa was taken aback by how aggressive his reaction was. James was usually the best and calmest of them all. Or at the least, he never usually would have gotten that an angry that fast. Especially when all she had done was ask if he was okay. “James, really. You’ve been acting strange for weeks now. What’s going on?” She lightly touched his arm, hardly more than a glance, but he yanked away as if he had been burned.

“DON’T, Filippa.” He reached up to where her fingers had touched, wincing when his own hand made contact. “We’re both supposed to be out there any second; we need to be ready.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Filippa said, feeling weirdly small. Something was wrong, but James was so determined not to let her find out what it was. 

“Thank you,” He said and at Oliver’s queue, he headed back on stage, thus leaving Filippa alone with the second years to wonder what the hell was going on.

-

James looked even worse after rehearsal, but she wasn’t going to say anything. He had run off with Oliver before she had the chance, clearly avoiding her.

Filippa was a night owl. Ever since their first year, she was always been the last student going to bed. Now, a fourth year, she was alone in the castle, book perched in her lap. Honestly, it was getting late even for her and as soon as she finished the chapter, she had planned on going to bed. 

When James stumbled down the stairs, she figured that wasn’t going to be happening any time soon.

“Hey, Pip.” He said quietly, not angry like he had been before. More quiet and nice. More like James. “Do you have any pain killers? I ran out.” 

Filippa nodded, closing her book and taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the way he hugged both his arms, but especially the right one, protectivly to his chest. “You have to tell me what’s going on though.”

His lips curved upwards, almost like he had been expecting that. “Okay.”

She stood up, handing James her book as he slowly sat down. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a second.”

Filippa ran upstairs to where she had left a bottle of painkillers in the bottom of her bag. She carefully took out on dose, but then thought better of it and grabbed a few more. He had said that he was out, hadn’t he? 

Back downstairs, James hadn’t moved from where he had been when he left.

“You can’t swallow them dry, right?” Filippa asked, already knowing the answer as she reached to grab him a cup of water. 

“I can’t,” He said, even as she handed him the water and the pills. “Thanks.” 

“I grabbed you a few extra.” Filippa handed him a small bag, she herself sitting down on the arm of his chair. “So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong? There’s no way I can possibly help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“You don’t need to help me. You don’t need to help everyone.”

“James.”

“Just…” He quickly swallowed the pills, closing his eyes as he did so. “Promise you won’t tell Oliver. I don’t want him to know.”

Filippa ignored the million questions that request arose. “Okay. I will not tell Oliver, I promise.” And she meant it. She would not tell Oliver.

James undid the button at the end of his left sleeve and pushed it up past his elbow. “The right is worse, but I don’t want to touch it right now. I’m afraid I’ll hardly be able to move it tomorrow if I do.”

All the air was sucked from Filippa’s lungs, all the blood from her veins, and all the heat from her body. “James.”

“It’s not that bad.” James voice cracked and he sounded as if he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince her. “I can deal with it. Really.”

Filippa sighed, taking one of his freezing hands in her own. James was always so cold. “I’m not going to ask what happened. But I’ll help you deal with it. You can try icing it, but that normally doesn’t work unless the injury just happened. I’m assuming this did not?” He shook his head. “Okay then. I believe using heat is better than that if it’s been awhile. I have a heating pad upstairs that I can get if you want it. That should help them fade and add to your mobility, at least.”

James nodded, trying for a smile that fell short. “Thank you.”

Filippa shrugged, climbing off of the chair arm. “Hey, someone has to keep all of you put together. Now don’t go anywhere, I’ll be down in a second.”

-

Part Six

-

Filippa's hair was long up until their second year. It fell in dark wavy layers, all the way down to her waist. 

It was never striking in the way of Meredith. God no, she never could have mustered up the kind of motivation. Nor was it ever elegant in the way of Wren; Filippa never could have been that soft. It simply was...her. And God, she grew to hate it so much. 

It was her father. Filippa’s feelings about her father were so tangled up, ruined by a childhood of not seeing him and hearing awful things about him until she couldn’t remember if her own memories of him were bad or if she just thought they were because people told her she should.

It felt so lonely not to be able to trust one’s own mind.

She was allowed to talk to him over break. Why, she had absolutely no idea. Something about how “Filippa, it will be good for you.” “Filippa, you should build a relationship with your father.” “Filippa, how will you ever turn out okay if you go your entire life hating where you come from?”

Filippa thought that was bullshit, but she went along with it anyway. Mostly for her siblings. Not at all for herself. 

It was just some stupid comment, something that meant nothing and that he did not even remember saying. 

“Your hair is so beautiful long, Filippa. Just like your mother’s used to be.”

And suddenly, what had been such a part of her for years was ruined. She wanted it gone.

It was late; everyone had gone to bed already. Filippa had the scissors, but they were sitting closed on the table in front of her. It was ridiculous; this was something she wanted to do. So why couldn’t she?

“Filippa, is that you?” Wren’s high voice rang out, sounding unnaturally loud in comparison to the complete lack of other noise. Even the crickets had stopped chirping. She rounded the corner, smiling brightly when she saw Filippa. “I should have known. Even Alexander doesn’t stay up this late.” Her eyes drifted down to the scissors on the table and the trash bag covering the floor, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Cutting my hair.” Filippa said calmly. Might as well be blunt about it. “What are you doing?”

“I was just going to get a drink.” Wren said. She got a glass of water and then sat down next to FIlippa. “Why are you cutting your hair?’

She shrugged. That was too personal. Filippa had a very clearly drawn line which nobody got to cross, not even Wren. “Sometimes you’ve just got to change, you know?”

Wren nodded, whether she actually understood or was just acknowledging Filippa’s answer remaining unclear. “Do you want help?”

“Do you know anything about cutting hair?”

“A bit.” Wren picked up the scissors. “A friend of my mother’s showed me a few things once. I can make a straight cut, at least.”

Well, that was arguably better than Filippa could do. And at least Wren could pick the scissors up off the table. “Go ahead.”

Wren turned so that she was behind Filippa, taking her hair and laying it flat. “How short do you want it?”

Filippa bit the inside of her cheek. “Up to my jaw.”

If Wren was surprised, she did not allow it to show. “Okay. Try to sit still.” Filippa could feel the cool blade of the scissors touch her neck as Wren began to snip away her hair. Wren’s fingers were just as cold and Filippa did her best to ignore the way her heart beat stalled every time she felt her push away some of her hair.

After a few minutes of snipping, Wren set down the sissors. “Done.”

Filippa reached up, feeling the new blunt edges. It felt so much lighter. “Wow.”

“It looks really pretty!” Wren said excitedly. “Here.” She bustled Filippa into the bathroom and infront of the mirror. “See.”

Filippa slowly smiled, seeing her reflection. She felt as if a hundred pound weight had been lifted off of her chest, seeing her hair chopped off higher than it had ever been in her entire memory. 

“Do you like it?” Wren finally asked hesitantly. Rather than answering, Filippa just hugged her. She didn’t want to cry.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so that was a lot.  
> This actually started out as something completely different and kind of spiraled out of control into a 5000 word thing i somehow wrote in 48 hours while avoiding my ap lang work.  
> For reference...  
> Part one: second year  
> Part two: third year  
> Part three: early second year  
> Part four: end of third year  
> Part five: fourth year  
> Part six: second year
> 
> And now for some notes:  
> 1\. I have this really stupid idea that after everything, Wren quits acting and temporarily tries out costume designing. that was briefly referenced here in the beginning.  
> 2\. Background students are all named after books in my room. + One CD. I love Dave Malloy.  
> 3\. I tried the Name:dialog thing. I apologise for how awkwardly done it was.  
> 4\. I like to think Mer and Pip get along very well, so in this they do. Also the part to write with them was so fun.  
> 5\. I don't think it was ever revealed how it is announced who stays or who goes? So I made up my own way.  
> 6\. the part with James was originally supposed to be the part where she helps him cover up what happened with richard, but I was kind of scared of writing that. One day.  
> 7\. Speaking of Richard, I just couldn't do it. I have no nice feelings towards him right now.  
> 8\. I hope I didn't accidentally step on any cannon? I mean, I know I did but hopefully only a little bit.
> 
> I don't know what I should apologise for more, how long these notes are or how bad my writing is. regardless, thanks for reading and I'm sorry.  
> ALSO my tumblr is penguinsarebetterthanpeople if anyone wants to...be friends. BYE


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